


Almost But Not Quite

by BloomTommorrow



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Arranged Marriage, Cheating, Confrontations, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Love Triangles, Lovers To Enemies, Multiple Sex Positions, Second Chances, Secret Relationship, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, lovers to strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloomTommorrow/pseuds/BloomTommorrow
Summary: The one moving forward was Historia Reiss. Eren stayed in the same place she’d left him.
Relationships: Eren Yeager & 104th Training Corps, Frieda Reiss/Zeke Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss & Eren Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, Pieck Finger/Zeke Yeager
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Almost But Not Quite

**Author's Note:**

> see notes at bottom

Eren Yeager showing up to their get together after three years is an unimaginable occurrence.

After much hounding from Floch Forster, Eren gave in and went. He missed everyone, especially Armin. And when was the last time he saw Armin Arlert? And the others? The most they ever spoke was through group chats.

“They’ll be surprised to see you, Yeager,” Floch grinned, plucking out his phone on the way to the pool. Both boys rolled their own luggage down the corridor, following the path towards the door at the end. “I’ll record their reactions.”

Hair tied in a messy bun, Eren donned himself in a simple blue windbreaker paired with jersey shorts and sandals. Armin had arranged their small, private reunion in a resort owned by the Reiss family. Although they weren’t close to her, Eren’s friends felt lucky enough to have been in the same vicinity and alma mater as the current heir, Historia. The Reiss family owned several chains of five-star restaurants, hotels, and resorts.

According to his friends, Historia herself was the one who’d suggested one of her family’s private resorts for their celebration. She was in mutuals with Armin on Instagram. He’d been the only other smart kid back in high school she’d cheated off, and after seeing his post looking for suggestions, she’d made an offer. Historia was even kind enough to give them a discount.

The group’s laughs and voices rang from the pool deck, the top 40 hits in the country booming in the speakers.

Floch veered in front of Eren. He peered down at him. “I’ll show up first, ‘kay?” The ginger-haired guy turned on his heel, stepping through the door and back into the sunlight, keeping it open with a foot. “Yo, guys!”

He caught Jean’s, “Yo, Floch! Nice seeing you!” in return.

“I got someone with me!” Floch announced. “Guess who?” Without waiting for their guesses, Floch yanked Eren by the arm.

The way everybody’s eyes widened and their mouths fell into an ‘o’ were priceless. True to Floch’s word, he was recording. Most of Eren’s friends were here, except Mikasa. She was studying abroad in Japan. Mikasa and Jean were still going strong, communicating mostly through apps and video chats.

Still, nostalgia flowed through him. High school memories. They were a solid squad. Together, they laughed, cried, failed some classes, had breakdowns over exams, celebrated their achievements…

Eren felt bad. He almost didn’t show up.

“Eren!”

All of them charged for him like they were still in the school hallways. Eren couldn’t help but smile. He dropped his luggage, greeting everyone with smiles and hugs.

They’d matured; different haircuts, physiques, tired eyes, and smiles were still the same enough to recognize.

“Floch said you weren’t coming!” Connie Springer said, gripping Eren’s shoulders like he wasn’t real. “But here you are! Damn. I missed you, bro!” He pulled him into another hug.

“It’s part of the surprise, _Connor,_ ” Floch jeered.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jean Kirstein barked at him, throwing an arm around Floch’s shoulders, effectively locking him into a submission hold. Jean tipped his chin to Eren, addressing him. “Hey, dumbass, where’ve you been? We haven’t seen you in ages.” Floch elbowed him, squirming to break free.

Eren didn’t have a second to answer before Sasha Blouse jumped in, “Wow, Eren,” she said in awe, blinking up at him, confused. “Is this really you?”

“Nice hair!” Marco Bolt complimented.

“So, how’s school?” Marlowe Freudenberg cut in, folding his arms across his chest, Hitch Dreyse still right by his side after all these years, eyeing Eren knowingly. “Any girlfriends?”

They were all silent enough for Eren to respond. He shook his head. “Busy. No time for that.”

He caught eyes with Armin from a distance, his jaw pinging to the floor from the reclined pool chair. Eren couldn’t help the grin that broke through. Seeing his oldest friend was the nicest feeling.

“Best friend!” Armin yelled, rushing out of the chair and towards Eren with open arms.

“Best friend!” Eren opened his arms. They met half-way, giving brief hugs before it evolved into wrestling, elbows and face-pulling, and weak kicks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jean chanted. “Stop that before they kick us out, you assholes! We’re not here for that!” Both Jean and Connie tried pulling the two away from one another. Somehow, it ended with Jean being elbowed hard enough to lose his footing and fall into the pool.

The entire group laughed.

Jean broke through the water. _“Fuck you!”_ He flipped the birdie.

After their re-introductions, Eren and Floch left their friends at the pool, shuffling back to the lobby. The staff greeted them warmly. The hotel was extravagant, classic and timeless marble interior with white columns and polished floors, large paneled windows to let the sun through, the beach breezing through the curtains. _When’s the last time I ever went anywhere fancy?_ His mind zeroed in on Zeke’s wedding, his much older half-brother.

Reservations done, Eren wandered around the lobby, pulling out his phone to call his mom. He plopped on the couch, the phone dialing.  
“This way, Mr. Tybur.”

That name. Eren turned to the receptionist desk and saw a tall man’s lean build wrapped in a crisp black suit. He’d only seen this guy once in person.  
The future heir of Tybur Group of Companies, Willy Tybur. Historia’s fiancé.

Hot coal dropped in his stomach.

Nephew of Shingeki High’s vice-principal, the entire student body knew Willy Tybur and Historia Reiss were to be engaged the moment she turned eighteen. Eren remembered how his friends went wild when the tabloids announced it back on a bitter January day, two weeks after Historia’s birthday. It was almost like they didn’t view her as a person. The student body had a mix of reactions—jealous she’d marry a guy so loaded, others skeptical because Historia was still so young. Most, though, were overall happy. She was popular, student council president, and so was Willy, part of many prestigious university clubs and well-liked by his peers. Why wouldn’t it work?

Eren wasn’t happy.

He remembered Connie’s teasing that day he’d first caught sight of Willy Tybur. Connie dug his pointed elbow into his side. “You don’t look too happy, man.” Eren hadn’t answered, fixated on Willy arriving during lunch to pick up Historia. She’d looked around, and Eren didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he knew she was looking for him.

  
“Aww,” Connie had continued, ruffling his mop of hair. “You like her, bro? She’s so cute, huh?”

Jean, Sasha, and even Floch had added their own relentless teasing.

Eren rolled his eyes, tearing his eyes away from Historia ducking into Willy’s fancy car. He turned back to his cafeteria food. Today was sloppy joes. “You’re all ridiculous,” he’d muttered.

“It’s okay, Eren,” Jean offered. “Everybody loves Historia. It’s only natural.”

If only he had an actual clue. But Jean didn’t. He and Historia were doing well to keep it on the down-low.

Floch gripped his shoulders, shaking him. “C’mon, Eren. Tell us. You don’t gotta lie.”

Eren shrugged his hands away. “Maybe you guys do,” he chugged his Coke, his eyes flicking to the hallway. Willy’s car was gone. “But I’m built differently.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “What was he doing here, anyway?”

“Maybe he cut class,” Armin offered, chewing on the stale bun offered with the sloppy joe mix. “Pieck says college is pretty flexible, and cutting class is normal, although not recommended.” Pieck Finger was one of their former senior’s, now Zeke’s wife.

His friends kept talking, sliding into discussions about their classes and prom ideas. Eren sat at their table quietly, the same table they’d occupied for the last four years, mindlessly stabbing his fork into the styrofoam plate. He couldn’t stop thinking about that sight. How pissed off it made him. He had no right.

His girlfriend. Getting into another guy’s car.

Historia hadn’t stopped texting him, asking him to talk. Radio silence was her answer. Eren knew why they needed to talk. He wasn’t dumb.

And after another week of disregard, Historia cornered him in the library where she knew he spent most of his free period.

“Eren, we need to end this.”

It was Historia’s first words to him after all this time, slicing him right through the core.

Eren slid the book back onto the shelf, then turned around. He schooled his face to perfect impassiveness. Historia’s brows rose. “I knew you’d say that.”

“So, that’s why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“Partially.”

Historia heaved a sigh, crossing her arms. “You know we can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her eyes focused on the floor. She toed the carpet with her boot. “We both knew this would happen. We’ve talked about it before.” Historia met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

“Don’t worry,” he shrugged, jerky. “I’m not the type to kneel and beg someone to stay.”

Her brow rose at his nonchalance. “Then why keep ignoring me?”

“I just… I thought it was the best way to cherish what we had. Letting it die without saying a word.” His eyes landed on his sneakers. He couldn’t look at her face. If he did, he’d crack, shatter to itty-bitty pieces. He wouldn’t allow her to see that vulnerable side of him, not when he needed to let her go. “But… Now that you’re here,” Eren sighed, “I guess that it’s really over.” He offered a strained smile, “I’m sorry if I made it harder for you, Historia.”

She bit her quivering lip, her eyes trained on the floor, fists shaking at her sides. All that earlier determination gone. Both of them knew they were running on limited time. They knew it wouldn’t last forever; teenage love never does. Historia was always meant for someone else.

Someone like Eren Yeager never stood a chance. Be it from status, power, or wealth. She was always out of his league.

“It was fun, though,” Eren said, nodding, averting his eyes. He felt icy hot, his neck and face numb with unshed tears. The end of their six-month story. Like a snap of fingers.

He had so much more to say.

Historia shook her head. “But…” She said, so quietly, if they were anywhere louder, Eren wouldn’t have heard.

She met his eyes, the same ocean despair reflected. It took Historia a _lot_ to cry. He’d only ever seen her shed a tear twice, and Historia had always been quick to halt. Reiss women _never_ cry, she’d once told him.

Historia crossed a line between them, hugging him tight. She didn’t even care who saw. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. Eren was glued to this spot, unmoving, his eyes pooling from the affection. Every instinct in him wanted to hug her right back with the same tightness and never let go. But now wasn’t the time. Not anymore. If he did, he truly wouldn’t let go.

He lightly tapped her back, moving his hands to her shoulders, peeling her away. He forced a smile Historia’s wet eyes instantly flattened. He hated seeing her cry. The very last thing he ever wanted was to see her cry. It made him weak. “Why’re you crying, Historia?” And weakness propelled him to wipe her tears. “I hate seeing you cry.”

  
“Eren,” She said, leaning into his touch, “I want to be with _you_. I love _you_.”

His eyes slid closed, breathing in those words. “Me too,” Eren shook his head. “But we can’t, Historia. You said it yourself. You’d never want to spoil your family’s reputation further.”

“I know what I said,” Historia said irritably, slapping his hands away, stepping away from him. “But if I had a choice, I’d want us…”

“Historia, stop,” Eren interrupted. If she wouldn’t officially break it off, then it had to be him. “We already talked about this. I’ll never be enough.”

It was painful for him to admit.

Eren was young. _Being broken hearted’s part of growing up,_ he’d thought. It was just a six-month fling, all of it in secret—every moment between them stolen in whichever way they could find. His friends had no clue. They were all rooting for another man. Eren had no one to turn to with these feelings. How much he wanted to hold her. How pissed off he was at her for choosing her family. How he craved to punch her fiancé. It was torture.

He didn’t date anyone after that. Not even in college. Sure, he found the occasional girl attractive, but Historia was by far the best. And the most traumatic experience. She’d crushed his soul.

Eren removed himself from the lobby. All he’d seen was Willy’s profile, and that was enough to get him heated. _Why’s he even here?_ On second thought, Eren didn’t want to know. Deep down inside, he hoped for something he wouldn’t admit.

His friends were still on the pool deck, most of them standing around, Connie and Jean launching themselves into the pool by the diving board, attempting backflips while Sasha kept score. He caught Marlow crossing the gate that lead to the beach.

“Eren!” Armin waved frantically from under the shade of a tent. “Hey, Earth to Eren! C’mere!”

He nearly lost all his breathing when the girl sitting on the rattan chair across from her turned. Those blue eyes he used to love so much.

“Historia…?”

“The one and only!” Hitch grinned, tipping her sunhat.

She looked just as shocked to see him underneath her own straw hat. And Eren couldn’t help but think she was still so beautiful—those round eyes and those soft cheeks he used to love squeezing down to those lips he missed kissing. She was wearing a short, white bohemian dress better suited for spring than summer, but she still took his breath away, regardless.

But Historia was quicker to recover, painting on a sweet smile. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay here, Eren. It’s... nice to see you again.”

“We _are!”_ Connie butt in before Eren could answer, dripping from the pool. Sasha appeared, mostly toweled dry, and pulled one of the rattan chairs by Historia’s side. “Thanks for the recommendation.” He turned to Eren with a wide grin. “Hey, let’s go. Jean’s had the drinks ready, but we’ve been waiting for you—hey, Floch! Where’d the hell you run off to?”

  
Eren looked at Historia. She shrugged in response, turning back to her conversation with Armin and Hitch. A conversation about school. He wanted to stay and sit and listen.

  
“Eren!” Connie called from the outdoor bar where the row of drinks were arranged by the bartender. “Let’s go!”

“Yeah,” he responded, ripping his eyes away from Historia, “I’m comin’!”

****

The last thing Historia expected to see on her vacation was Eren.

How did she forget Armin was his best friend? She wanted to slap herself.

 _Has it really been three years?_ There was no doubt. He’d gotten taller, towering at six feet, she guessed, and his black hair was so much longer than the mop it used to be in high school. He’d gotten bulkier, his face more prominent. His eyes hadn’t changed, still grey and gloomy. He looked very much the same boy she’d given up.

“Historia?”

“Huh?” She bit her lip, embarrassed Armin, and Hitch caught her not paying attention. “Uh, sorry. What?”

“How’re your studies abroad?” Hitch repeated.

Historia smiled. “Oh. It’s going, I guess,” she followed it with a chuckle. “I’m going back after the summer.”

“So you’ll only be here for a short time,” Sasha pouted.

“Uh.” Her eyes darted between the two girls. “… Do you wanna hang out before I fly back to Germany?”

Sasha’s eyes brightened. “S—Sure!” She exclaimed, then covered her mouth in excitement. “Oh my, God! I’ll be hanging out with _the_ Historia Reiss for the rest of the summer!”

Hitch’s brows pinched. She kicked Sasha’s knee. “Calm down! She’s still a person. But, yes, I’d love to, Historia.”

“Well, that settles it,” She smiled. “When are you guys free?”

While the three girls started planning their rendezvous, Armin swung by with a tray containing a few of the drinks she’d seen earlier at the bar, offering one to Historia. It was brown, and she declined with a smile. Sasha took it for her, immediately gulping the contents.

Her smile faded when she saw Willy staring at her from the entrance leading into the lobby, a glass of freshly poured champagne in hand.

Historia forced a smile. “I’ll be back,” she rose, throwing the pillow in her spot. “Excuse me.”

****

Jean rose a brow, following her movements. Eren couldn’t help but notice her leave, too, the way she squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle.

“Where’s she going?” Jean asked.

Eren followed her projected path, and he inwardly cringed at the sight of Willy waiting for her by the door. He threw back another shot of Jägermeister. “To her fiancé,” he admitted reluctantly, slamming the glass on the table, asking the bartender for another.

Jean was confused as if realizing something just now. “Aren’t they married?”

“I don’t think so,” Marco said, sipping on the purple straw. “I’m pretty sure we’d hear about it on the news if they did, right?”

Armin returned. “Historia’s focused on her studies in Germany,” he informed them, dropping the tray on the counter, sliding it over to the bartender. “She said their families haven’t talked about setting a date just yet. But she’s been trying to push for it.”

Marco’s brows rose. “How do you know this?”

Floch, having returned from a phone call inside the resort, nudged Marco with his elbow. “They’re Instagram friends, dude.”

Connie yawned. “Damn. If only I was smart enough in high school, I could’ve been the nerd she copied off of.” He folded his arms on the counter, resting his head on it. Alcohol always made this kid sleepy. “Maybe I would’ve had a chance...”

“What the fuck, Connie?!” Floch barked, shaking him. “The night hasn’t even started!”

“But I don’t understand why their family’s deciding their wedding date,” Marco mused, “shouldn’t it be… Historia?”

Jean shrugged. “They’re both from some of the richest families in the country,” he explained, twirling the remaining contents of his beer. “Family heads decide everything for everyone, especially if it’s beneficial towards the business.”

Eren couldn’t take any more of this conversation, throwing back another shot. “I need to take a leak. Where’s the bathroom?”

He didn’t want to think about her. These last three years, he’d spent them preventing himself from thinking about her—immersing himself in studies, work, whatever little friends he’d made at university. He wouldn’t even let his mind wander in his sleep. Even for a quick second, thinking about her would bring back all the pain and longing that would keep him up all night.

What was the point of thinking of others who don’t even think about themselves? Why do people fall in love with a person they can’t have?

Eren wanted to save himself from this misery. She was taken by another man—a man she’ll spend her entire life with, make sweet memories with him, have a family with. A man that wasn’t Eren. Would never be Eren.

He needed to wake the fuck up.

He drifted into the seafood restaurant adjacent to the lobby after using the restroom. Jazz music from the music box welcomed his ears. He plopped on a bar stool, ordering himself water to wash down the alcohol before these thoughts drove him crazy, left him loose-limbed, and unable to see straight.

“Everything all right, sir?” The bartender asked, sliding him a frosty glass with loads of ice.

Eren nodded noncommittal, leaving the conversation at that. The bartender took the hint, moving down the line to the next customer.

He didn’t know how long he planned to stay here. Eren might’ve spent an hour staring at the table, but he wasn’t sure. The water helped slightly, but Eren was still feeling out of sorts, his thoughts spiraling out of control. He was regretting showing up. He did not need this excess drama.

The one moving forward was Historia Reiss. Eren stayed in the same place she’d left him. She wasn’t coming back. Not to him. Never. He needed to let go. Eren squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the cold glass. _Please._

“Oh,” the bartender said, joyful. “Good afternoon, Miss Reiss—”

Eren snapped his head when he heard the name, locking eyes with her.

They were red and puffy from crying.

****

“What were you doing out there?” Willy asked the moment Historia stepped to him.

“Just saying hi,” Historia responded. “I knew those guys in high school.”

“Said ‘hi,’ huh?” He leered. “Or were you flirting with that blond kid when you knew damn well I was keeping an eye on you?”

Historia rolled her eyes inwardly. “Are we really going to do this again?”

Willy remained impassive, his eyes darkening. Yes, they would. Historia shook her head, brushing past him, heading inside.

“And just where do you think you’re _going,_ Historia?” He called out after her. “We’re still talking.”

Not to her. Her day was ruined now. Historia was so exhausted. But Willy Tybur didn’t care—he followed her the entire way to their suite on the top floor, scolding her behavior the whole time. She wished they had separate rooms.

 _What’s he so angry about?_ Was it jealousy? Historia nearly scoffed. How presumptuous of her to think.

She was simply too young for him. And inexperienced. Willy hadn’t let it go unknown how boring he found her. They’d been acquaintances since they were children. Willy saw her as barely more than a friend. Their parents didn’t care. They had high hopes one day they’d come to some sort of agreement.

It didn’t have to be love. It was for business, not personal gain.

But Willy had broken their agreements.

Historia caught him with other women. More than once. All of them unintentional. All of them around his age. Willy didn’t hide it. The very last time she’d caught him, it was with the secretary at his company. Historia thought of herself as scary for someone so short and threatened the woman with termination. Once she’d left, Historia forced Willy to delete her number.

It was only a matter of time before Willy started up again.

She didn’t love him, but it still shattered her. It wasn’t fair—Historia gave up _everything_ while Willy gave up nothing. They allowed him to have his little playthings while she’d been trying to teach her heart for the last three years to love another man. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she had to sacrifice the one person she might’ve truly loved for this… _guy_. This guy couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and fulfill a simple commitment, not to _her,_ but to their _families._

She slammed the balcony door shut in Willy’s face, cutting off whatever other lecture he was dishing out about how inappropriately she behaved this afternoon. She stayed with her forehead pressed to the glass, the curtains effectively shadowing the room, but she still saw his pointed dress shoes. Willy huffed and puffed and ultimately stomped away, the door of their suite slamming shut, announcing his departure.

Historia folded her arms over the railing, enjoying the late afternoon coolness, the waves crashing from the beach, and what freedom looked like. But those fantasies weren’t for good girls like her, good girls who stopped at nothing and gave up anything to please their family. She let the window blow her thoughts to Eren. Selfishly, she wondered what he thought when he saw her today. Did he also suffer the same instant reaction she had? He looked just as shocked to see her. Was he thinking of her now?

She shook that thought off, moving back inside the suite to take a nap.

Her phone chiming interrupted her sleep. Groggily, Historia picked it up.

“Historia,” Rod sounded irate. What did she do now?

She rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly. “Hi, Dad.”

“Willy called me,” he cut straight to the point, “said you were giving him a hard time again. Is this true?”

Historia rubbed her temple. “We just had a misunderstanding. It’s nothing serious. I don’t know why he called you.”

“Well, it sounded plenty serious. Willy sounded pissed. Why do you insist on being so stubborn? It’s about time you stop acting like a child, Historia.”

“Dad,” she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “ _I’m_ not the one who’s being stubborn. _He’s_ the one making things up to get mad about and running to you when—”

  
 _“Historia,”_ he interrupted with a lot of bite that stung, “Willy’s a grown man. Do you think he’s that childish?”

“... Uh? _Yes?_ ”

Rod heaved a sigh. “Don’t you _ever_ let him or his family hear you talking like that. Or _else._ Historia, any little thing you do can cost us our reputation. You know that.”  
Historia bit her lip. “Yes. Yes, I understand, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. Apologize to _him_. Don’t let this day pass without fixing this,” he said, and added, “if Willy calls me again, I’m sending you back to Hamburg. Goodbye.”

She’d _just_ gotten back from Germany the other day. Historia didn’t want to go back already! Her older brother, Urklyn, had arranged this impromptu trip. He told her Willy missed her, though Historia wasn’t so sure about that. She never felt Willy wanted anything _more_ from her, and, honestly, neither did she. Still, she wanted to make this work. Calling off this engagement wasn’t an option. Frieda had fucked up. Her older sister had chosen love over the family. Historia would _not_ make that same mistake.

But it had always been this way. Frieda had been the perfect child. The desired one. Historia had always been labeled as the ‘wrong’ one. The ‘messy’ one. The ‘graceless’ one. They would scold her for not learning basic etiquette quickly enough. For not being able to read thoroughly by the time she was five. All the family’s eyes had been on Frieda. Historia was barely even a back-up. Until now.

Listening to her father, Historia dialed for Willy. He didn’t answer. The line rang with the tone for a busy call.

Who’s he on a call with? On our vacation? Their siblings agreed to take over the reins while they were gone, all emergencies and inquiries transferred over to them. So what the fuck?

Her suspicion immediately raised like a meter.

Gripping her phone, Historia left the room. She roamed the whole resort, the pool deck, the beachside, asking anyone that would speak to her and not trip over their words. The staff had absolutely no input. In the lobby, Eren’s friends trickled.

“Hey,” she said to none of them in specific. “Have you guys seen Willy?”

“No,” the ginger-haired kid—Floch, she thought—answered. “But, uh. We can’t find Eren. You haven’t seen him anywhere?”

“No,” _I don’t need to know anything about Eren!_ Historia wanted to scream, but instead offered them thanks and swept away.

She kept calling Willy, but he still didn’t answer. Her fingers trembled as she typed a text. Her chest pounded so hard. She waited in the lobby five. Ten. Thirty minutes. No answer either.

It frustrated her to the point of tears. Historia didn’t want her mind to jump to the worst-case scenario, but she knew. In her heart, she knew. The signs were there. Whenever he was out with another woman, he pulled out every trick in the book to avoid her. Had he found a woman that fast? Or had he flown her over?

Either way, she just wanted to know when he planned to get serious about this. Why did he have to treat this like a game? Historia couldn’t bear to think that this is what Willy planned to do for their entire marriage.

She didn’t want to go back to the room. Historia wiped her eyes, shuffling around the resort with no exact destination, finding herself standing in front of the seafood restaurant. It wasn’t too packed yet, and she was a little hungry, but Historia didn’t believe she had the energy to touch food right now. The clear jazz music didn’t help ease.

  
She wiped her cheeks once more before approaching the bar, only one lone man sipping on a glass of water.

“Oh,” the bartender greeted with a smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Reiss!”

The lone man sitting at the bar whipped his head immediately.

It was Eren.

****

Historia immediately bolted.

Still slightly intoxicated, but not enough to render him immobile just yet, Eren had enough semblance to leave a tip before chasing after her, tripping a few times on the way out. _“Historia, wait!”_ He shouted.

Of course, she didn’t stop. He lost her somewhere in the throng of people at the reservations line. The resort had so many hallways and corridors, but Eren searched tirelessly. Eventually, he found her by the same tent she’d been in when he first saw her earlier today, the pool deck deserted once more. Historia was clutching her phone, head down.

  
He pulled up the rattan by her side, taking a seat. “Hey, Historia—”

“What do you _want,_ Eren?” Historia tried to speak in a normal tone to hide any hint of sobbing, but those sniffles and her reddened nose and cheeks gave her away. “You need something?”

He touched her back so delicately. He was always worried she would break under his holds. “Just wanna know why you’re crying.”

She brushed off his affection, wiping her nose with a finger. The coconut trees swaying the breeze blocked the bright full moon. It was a chilly night; Historia shivered, goosebumps prickling her porcelain skin. Eren wished he’d brought his hoodie. Hot days, cold nights. He didn’t miss that part of being back here.

“Was it him?”

Historia shook her head, not looking at him. “S—Stay out of his, Eren—”

 _“Is_ it, Historia?”

Historia met his eyes, frowning at his sardonic tone. She wasn’t faking her expression like earlier today. She was angry now. “Who’re _you_ to demand anything out of me?” He’d awakened the flames of something Eren didn’t know. “I told you it’s none of your business,” she growled. “Now, please, leave me alone.”

She rose, walking away. Again. She’s _leaving. It’s happening again._

The sight was painful, watching her disappear under the night sky. Eren’s breathing went ragged. The recklessness of the alcohol and the surge of anxiety made him uncontrollable.

He ran after her, feet cold, and grabbed her arm. Historia spun around, and Eren kissed her.

A hard slap jumped Eren back to a bitter reality.

 _“What the fuck are you doing?!”_ She snarled.

Eren was at a loss. What the fuck _did_ he think he was doing? He let feelings consume him. _Shit._ “I—I’m sorry, Historia. I… I just....”

“‘You just’ _what,_ Eren?” She was so pissed.

He can’t look at her. Eren was so ashamed and frustrated. “I… I just can’t get over…”

“God, Eren!” She shouted, loud enough for the people tucked in their rooms to hear. “It’s been _three years._ Why haven’t you forgotten me?!”

Eren scrubbed his hands over his face. “I know, I know—fuck! I’m sorry, okay?! I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m really sorry.” He grit his teeth. “But, Historia, I tried. I tried so damn hard to forget you, and then you showed up today, and it’s like everything…”

She didn’t answer for a long time; the moonlight playing shapes with their shadows on the floor. “You need to stop, Eren,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I’m engaged. I’m getting _married._ There’s no…”

He balled his hands into fists, clenching his jaw. “Right. With the guy who makes you cry.”

She shoved him, forcing him to look in the eye. She was crying again. Her wires snapped. “Stop acting like you know me! You don’t know a single thing about me, okay?! Whatever you thought of me three years ago is _gone._ You’ve changed—I’ve changed. And guess what, Eren? It’s still _none_ of your fucking business! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His lips parted. Right. Right, how could he forget? He could never compete for a spot in her world. Eren wasn’t worth anything. To Historia, he was just some _guy_ from years ago.

  
He gulped down the lump in his throat, feeling himself nod. Eren scratched the back of his head. “Right. Yeah. Okay.” He glanced at her one last time, biting her lip, shivering from both the biting cold and anger. “I really am sorry, Historia,” and walked off before she could see him crumble.

He was freezing, fucking embarrassed, his face going numb from the cold, his chest pounding. Eren wanted to throw up. Shooting those shots hadn’t been his best idea.

  
Against it all, Eren looked over his shoulder. Historia was gone. She left with no hesitation.

And for the second time, Historia Reiss was the one moving forward. Eren Yeager stayed in the same place where she’d left him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was supposed to be a one-shot smut but idk what happened i enjoyed writing it so far and this is the outcome. Please look forward at part two. (I updated this with the beta version from my EH friend. Thank you so much!)


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